


Prisoner of War

by whyevenbothertbh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: ? - Freeform, Control Kink, Dom Loki (Marvel), Dom/sub, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M, Prisoner Loki (Marvel), Stucky - Freeform, Sub Tony, Sub Tony Stark, intelligent men are the sexiest men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyevenbothertbh/pseuds/whyevenbothertbh
Summary: Set somewhere after Civil War as I refuse to let this era go, simpler times...Thor begs very bored Tony to let his not-brother Loki into his tower to protect him. Steve and Bucky are on the run and are considered traitors by the public and especially by Tony, who is plotting revenge. And Loki, oh Loki - he never stopped plotting. And isn't his best suit using other people's weaknesses? Tony is strong for the world but we all need a way of letting ourselves go, don't we?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 32





	1. How is Tony Stark doing and will there be another Apocalypse?

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this self-indulging feast for my kinky FrostIron-obsessed soul.  
> I am THE GREATEST fan of Lessons from a God by malkavia30 and there will probably be some inspiration by this work, but the background is quite different. Oh, and Poetic Justice by Limmet definitely played a part in sending me further down the path of my twisted imagination. 
> 
> I know those apologies are annoying af but I will be very grateful for letting me know if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes as English isn't my first language.  
> Hope you can enjoy it regardless.

**_Tony_ **

After over a year ago Tony Stark had proposed to facilitate Avengers in Stark Tower, and even its name has been changed to Avengers Tower, he really had no way to get out of the agreement. He even signed a contract, thinking  _ it’s just five stories, no big deal. _ And he only allowed Avengers-related operations to be carried out there, no general SHIELD agents if not absolutely necessary, no soldiers lurking in the corners. Absolutely no wiretapping and cameras. If he does find something, the agreement is automatically annulled. The idea was to give his new acquired friends a place to live, work, practise and relax. It did seem like an amazing concept to Fury and he agreed readily. 

All of his Avengers would stay at the same place and with a bit of luck get to like and understand each other a little better. Their operations were pretty much always successful and despite certain losses being inevitable, in his opinion, they could still be greatly minimised. And it didn’t hurt that it meant a heavy burden would be off his shoulders, too. Keeping all of them, strong-minded, narcissistic and opinionated in check wasn’t easy. Training, food and space for Earth’s new superheroes required a lot of resources, and a hell lot of patience. Not all of them were like Natasha, who would sleep anywhere and organise her training by herself. And when Tony and Thor came into view it became impossible to keep it all at SHIELD, be it headquarters or the helicarrier. These two were just too much for anyone to bear. 

For Tony it was the only way he knew to keep his friends being his friends. Spending money on them. Buying them nice things and good food, keeping them entertained and comfortable. Providing place to work and to rest and everything oh-so-much-better than at SHIELD, of course. Maybe being close to them so much wasn’t well thought-through, as he knew he could be a bit tiring sometimes, but that couldn’t be avoided if Fury was to be convinced. He still had thirty-five stories to himself and could always lock himself in his personal lab if human interaction became overwhelming. 

So, the Avengers’ part of the building were top five stories and the hardest to give up was the penthouse. But he thought after breaking up with Pepper it might be for the best, they’ve been spending most of their together time there. And it has a marvellous view of the city, is the best for take-offs for the flying part of the team and closest to the rooftop for a helicopter landing. He decided in case of emergency for now Thor and him can transport the rest down in two goes and he will think of something better for flight-handicapped members of the team in near future. And there were three elevators, each one with independent operating system and its own little arc reactor and the journey from the top floor all the way down to the ground floor took four and a half seconds. Should be enough for the time being. 

Most of the space was occupied already and it’s been worrying Tony a bit, because one or two more members and it’s going to be crowded. The lowest story, 36th counting ground floor as first floor, was the lab. Tony did have his own lab anyway, down in the private part of the tower, but this was the lab that was open to everyone who fancied going there and could be trusted with dangerous stuff. Ergo, not Thor and not Clint. Thor didn’t get how a toaster works and Clint just wanted to see what’s going to happen if he does this to that. Well, they could  _ go _ there. Just not unattended. 

Tony made sure enough chemistry and med-physics stuff was there, all the radiation equipment and spectrophotometers and anything Bruce could possibly want. And frankly, it was Bruce who was the most frequent guest there, partly because he lived in the tower pretty much permanently and partly because he was a science obsessed genius. Natasha would pop up sometimes, she was just interested in how things work, Steve used to come and check on them as if there was a possibility of them being up to something naughty. Tony enjoyed being in the lab with someone from time to time. Be it Bruce, to actually do something productive together, uniting their fields of expertise, or someone else, to be looked at and admired without slightest comprehension of the topic on their side. 

The 36th floor was the lab and the 37th was the gym. It was called “the gym” but except your normal, actual gym, there was a boxing rink, full-on training centre, suitable for crazy-spy-stuff with lots of knives and funny electronic gadgets only Widow and Clint knew how to use, archery station, and the floor could contain Hulk, too. Oh, and endless supply of punching bags for Cap. He had quite an obsession. 

Floor 38th and 39th were the living space. Banner, Natasha and Clint had their rooms on the 38th. Captain’s room used to be there, too. There were three other rooms, Vision and Wanda occupied two of them when they stayed in New York, but they rarely appeared, preferred missions far abroad and enjoying each other’s company in solitude. Thor, if present, used the room on the 39th. There was a free room on 38th and Thor wanted to take it, but Tony, who claimed not to believe in royalty, didn’t really find it appropriate, as the room,  _ which was still at a fancy hotel room level, mind you _ , wasn’t the best that the tower could offer. There were four rooms at 39th floor and they were bigger, grander, just more fitting for a mythical fairytale kingdom’s soon-to-be ruler. Fury also stayed there on the rare occasions he was too tired to go back to SHIELD headquarters or wanted to watch his soldiers play. 

Each bedroom had its own bathroom, on the 38th there was a small kitchen, a big living room, cosy, with a fireplace, board games and a huge TV. Chill space. On the 39th there was a conference room that they never used unless Fury forced them to because there were papers to sign. 40th floor, apart from being the take-off spot, was also the party floor with a nice bar to go with it. 

Of all the Avengers Bruce was in the tower most often, maybe even more than Tony himself. If not on a mission, it’s a safe bet he would be either in his room or in the lab. Natasha and Clint would go on missions quite often and were sometimes needed at the SHIELD headquarters. If free, Nat would come to the tower, but Clint took every opportunity to visit his family, so if there wasn’t anything planned in a matter of days, he took off to the countryside. Thor had a kingdom to take care of so he only appeared maybe once every two-three months and would stay no longer than three days unless there was a bigger problem in sight; he would always make up excellent excuses, though. Something along the lines of:  _ ”Do forgive me, Man of Iron, I mean no disrespect and although your tower of glass is nothing when compared to the golden halls of Asgardian court, I would gladly stay was it not for the obligations I have made with the Council”. _ Gotta love this guy. 

After the events of what the press has named “The Second Civil War”, which was quite excessive if you asked Tony, he had wondered if Natasha and Wanda should stay at the tower, but he’s noticed everyone on “his” team treat them normally, as if nothing has ever happened. Clint and Nat joked and trained together, they even tended to each other’s wounds after the battle. As for Wanda and Vision (or Vinda for short), they could hardly keep their hands to themselves two seconds after Cap and Barnes took off. Tony decided he didn't want to lose any more friends. Even if they weren’t really his friends. Besides that, it was the Avengers, not Stark Tower now. 

Everything was blamed on Captain and Barnes, they were marked as traitors, everyone else on his team got off with a reprimand from Fury. And if SHIELD decided to put it all in the past, it was hard for him to oppose. He had, a little, because he was Tony Stark, and wouldn’t it be weird if he hadn’t? But it was just a play and Fury knew it, so he went easy on Tony. Everything went back to normal, if there was any normal for people like them.

The one thing that has changed was Cap disappearing. Not only he moved out, he magically moved out without anyone noticing, Jarvis has informed Tony, of course, but somehow Rogers found an hour-long window when nobody was in the tower to get his stuff. Tony suspected Natasha had something to do with it or maybe Captain wasn’t that bad of a spy after all. He hadn’t brought Barnes with him, thank god, but probably just because he knew that if he had, Tony would have killed him.  _ Most likely killed them both. On my own ground, in my tower, they wouldn’t stand a chance.  _

He’s been thinking about that a lot, playing it out in his head. Tony would have slowly beaten Barnes to death, with titanium alloy armed hand, first having him kneel, holding his hair. _Just like Barnes did with my dad. Or maybe I would strangle him, not even caring enough to look him in the eyes for one second. Just how this scum killed my mom._ _Rogers knew that. And his psychopathic Hydra ice buddy meant too much for him to risk that._

Fuck him, then. Fuck both of them. He will find him, eventually. He's going to kill Barnes, if not now then soon enough and if Captain wishes to die with his goner friend, then so be it. Rogers was a soldier, though, even if a traitor, and he would give him a soldier’s death.  _ The remarkable Captain America, killed with just an ordinary bullet to the head. Wouldn’t this make for a nice headline? _

It's been half a year now since Rogers and Barnes disappeared. They weren't seen anywhere, technically they were wanted in almost 200 countries - the entire UN and a couple of others. Of course, SHIELD stepped up and the search was assigned to them. Tony was absolutely sure they were looking for them, yes, but definitely not to hand them over to the Supreme Court. Fury wouldn't allow that, not his beloved Captain America, maybe they have already found them and even were protecting them, who the hell knew. Natasha and Clint wouldn't speak about it and Tony wasn't going to ask them. If he was to find them, he needed a clue, though. Hacking SHIELD has proven unsuccessful, there was nothing except for weekly not-a-trace or we-are-following-a-vague-clue-of-someone-seeing-two-tall-men reports from various agents. Smart. If SHIELD was to be questioned about the lack of progress, the examiners wouldn't even know where to start digging. 

SHIELD wasn't giving them a lot of work and nothing really interesting, mostly just solo missions, two or three at best. They weren't trusted and not just because part of the team was rebelling just a couple of months ago, there was something else. The leader was gone. Cap organised training, made attack plans, assigned positions, governed communication, prepared escape routes, forwarded SHIELD orders, talked to local police, took care of civilians’ safety. He had kept all this shit together, working. And to be honest, Tony wasn't sure they could do all of this without him. 

For now, Widow was taking care of most of it, but she wasn't so versed in combat tactics when more people than just her were involved and the public didn't trust her quite as much as they had trusted Rogers, especially after the files were released. Not that Rogers was trusted now, or any of them for that matter. In people's eyes they were a band of entitled brats, too powerful for anybody's good. Handed too much responsibility yet unable to solve their own problems.  _ Is it just the public opinion or is it actually all facts? _ There wasn't anybody who could be the face of Avengers. They had to earn back their trust and maybe then they would get the responsibility that goes with it. 

For now, Tony spent most of his time gambling and drinking.  _ Talk about earning the trust back... _ He didn't have anything to do and bored Tony was bad Tony. He was also designing a new suit that needed to be more durable than all previous ones, he just wasn't sure how to achieve that just yet. More power had to be sent to the arms. Mechanical power, not stronger laser blasts. This time he wanted to kill not from a distance, but hand in hand, eye to eye. As he didn't have the materials needed- Jarvis had told him that analysing Barnes's arm by looks and behaviour alone, he couldn't match it to any metal or alloy known- Tony was stuck at the blueprints. 

He was chilling in the upper lab with Bruce, tinkering with some mildly radioactive chemicals when Jarvis notified them that Thor had just arrived at the penthouse and was anxious to talk to Tony. It was weird considering SHIELD announced two week off unless an apocalypse was going to commence, so both of them rushed to the elevator. Tony thought to himself that he was so bored he wouldn’t really mind an apocalypse. 


	2. It truly is an Apocalypse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woah, guess who the visitors might be?

Turns out, he wasn’t so far off in his predictions. 

They arrived at the top floor and when the elevator door opened, at first Tony only noticed his big friend with Pantene hair going strong. Thor was standing next to the bar and drinking vodka straight out of the bottle. 

_ I’m lucky I don’t need this much alcohol to get drunk or I would go bankrupt. That booze ain’t cheap. _

It took him a second to register there was another person in the room and yet another one to realise who it was. It wasn’t clear at first as the impression was quite different from the last time Tony saw him, but it was in fact him. Loki was there, sprawling on his couch. Not sprawling as in looking tired or slouchy, oh no. He was sitting there as if it was his couch, his room, his tower. 

Looking back to when Loki was caught and Thor was escorting him to Asgard, he remembers Loki looking angry, mad, but visibly defeated. Not wanting to accept his fate but realising its inevitability. 

Now, he was resembling more the Loki he met in the same place they were now days before that last time he saw him. Right in this tower. Confident, cocky and barely acknowledging anyone’s presence. Definitely not acknowledging anyone else’s importance. 

Having seen Tony and Bruce have noticed Loki’s presence, Thor took a big gulp out of the bottle and looked at them with worry written on his face. 

_ He better be saying he’s brought the fucker to let us kick him in the face if we want. Because I know I do. _

He looked at Bruce who was standing right next to him and saw his fists clenching and unclenching and there was undeniably a green hue to the color of his skin and he could swear Bruce didn’t have an olive undertone. Putting his own anger aside, he knew he should take care of a more pressing problem.  _ Nobody needs a Hulk in a situation like that, not even to kick Loki in the face. _ He spent too much on the windows the last time God of Mischief was in town. 

So he leaned over and whispered:

“37th, ok, buddy? We don’t need any more problems than necessary, right? I will get him out of here as quickly as possible, but Green Boy won’t help us now.” 

Bruce smiled at him wryly and after a short hesitation nodded and turned to the elevator. Tony waited for the door to close after him and asked:

“Would you care to explain yourself, Point Break? I know your sense of humor doesn’t always align with mine perfectly, but this joke I don’t get at all. Is this a gift? Can I mince him and make pies? Keep him as a housemaid? I bet he would look great in an apron and a ruffled dress.” 

“Anthony...” 

Nothing good ever happened when Thor used his full name. 

“Don’t you Anthony me, Thor.” 

“Tony, my dear friend. You know I would never desire to put you in an uncomfortable position, or in any kind of danger. My Midgardian friends mean a great deal to me. My brothers in arms, we’ve fought together, laughed together, feasted together. I consider you nearly as close as my family.” 

_ Lies. All lies. Kind, nice, heart-warming lies, but still, lies. _

“Get to the point, Thor. What is the freakshow doing here?” 

“As I said, nearly as close as family to me. But this, this is about family. My brothe-” 

Loki has been sitting quietly through all this conversation, seemingly not listening at all but he must have as at that moment he rose to his feet and hissed with pure venom in his voice: 

“I am not your  _ brother _ , you oak. I am not your family. Stop with this farce and admit this to yourself, anything you’re doing is because of guilt you’re feeling, because you’ve been a part of this, because you might not have known what your father has done, but you never did treat me like your equal. You feel that what I’ve done, what I am, is your fault. You want me to forgive you. Remember this, son of Odin, nothing, nothing you will do can ever make me forgive you. I am not your brother. And as to your Midgardian friends, as you like to call them, they are nothing but toys to you. Midgardian wars? Games. Missions? A chance to get out of Asgard, away from your true responsibilities. You can fool them, but you won’t fool me. You don’t care about anything other than you. Not Midgardians, not Asgard and your duties, surely not about  _ me _ .” 

_ Wow. That was something. Those last years haven’t dulled his tongue at all. _

During this little speech, when Loki was standing up, Tony has noticed something else. Something jingled during the movement and when he took a closer look, he saw a shiny piece of metal on god’s neck. A chain. Right at his throat, a big, heavy-looking chain of dark-grey metal, so close to his skin he must have felt it at all times.  _ Isn’t Asgardian fashion weird?  _

Thor sighed heavily and sat on the stool next to the bar. Then he picked up again. 

“As you are well aware, Tony, Loki was serving his sentence in Asgard. At first, he was put in a cell in the undergrounds of the palace. After a couple of months, when our-... when my mother died, Odin has decided it proper to transfer Loki to his chambers, disabling his magic and constricting him to the palace grounds.” 

Tony raised his brow. He didn’t like where this was going. The god continued.

“We thought that Loki would benefit from the change, but it wasn’t so. The folk didn’t approve of Allfather’s decision. They never really liked Loki and his crimes against both Asgard and Midgard deemed him irrevocable in their eyes. During the meals, when he was in the library, or on his walks, it could be felt by everyone. There were whispers and smiles, gossip followed him anywhere he went. Even the servants started to look down on him and he couldn’t do anything, any misdeed and he would be sentenced to death. One time I walked in just in time, he had his hands on a housemaid’s throat. That’s when I decided this had to stop and begged my Father to let me take him away from Asgard, somewhere where Loki would be safe.” 

_ This can't be real. _

“You are joking, right? You cannot be serious, Blondie. You aren't proposing for your crazy  _ not-brother _ to hide on Earth? You do realise he is hated here probably more than in Asgard! He attacked New York and Germany, tried to convince people they want to be his  _ slaves _ ! There is no place on Earth he could hide without people tearing him to pieces and turning to jerky over a fire.”

Loki was seated again, looking unaffected by the conversation that was happening between Thor and Tony as if it didn’t concern him, playing with a leather strap on his sleeve. Tony now noticed he wasn't wearing the same clothes he had during the attack. He was in a dark grey shirt, black leather pants, shoes reaching just over his ankles. Luckily no horns present. Over the shirt he was wearing a jacket-thingy of sorts, he couldn't make out what material it was made of, but it was thick and rough. 

The jacket was the only element that was green but it still wasn't the vivid, vibrant green Tony remembered, it was dark, more like military green color and the straps that he suspected were more for decoration than functionality. This wasn't battle attire, that much was obvious. And based on observation of the other's god clothes at different situations, Tony was guessing it was spring-summer casual collection somewhere in Vogue Asgard. Leisure clothes.  _ As if princes had those at all. _

And then there was the chain. As they were talking, Tony took a couple of steps forward and now he was seeing it clearly. The metal was so tight it was almost merged with his skin, there were red marks visible and, Tony was quite sure, some closed cuts, too. And upon more inspection he realised Loki the god did look tired, it wasn’t visible in his pose but there were dark circles under his eyes, his skin was pale and bland, sleek dark hair falling on his shoulder blades could use a wash.

“Do you enjoy seeing me like that, Anthony Stark?”

_ Of course he would notice me staring. That was his thing, wasn’t it? Watching, making notes, scheming.  _

“I kinda do, not gonna lie. Nice collar.”

Loki just smirked. No words. That annoyed Tony even more. Loki was too damn pleased with himself.

Thor decided it was time to continue. He walked up to Tony and put his big hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony could feel it weighing him down.

_ “Tony, on account of our friendship and the friendship between Asgard and Midgard, please, I’m begging you, as your friend and as prince of Asgard, give shelter to my brother, let him into your tower. I know he will be safe here.” _

_ Now it went too far. _

“ _ He _ will be safe? What about our safety? He tried to  _ kill _ us, Thor! Including you, too, don’t you remember that? Even worse, he tried to use us as his  _ weapons _ . And now you just come here and want me to protect him and feed him Frosties!”

Thor looked confused, most likely because of the Frosties. Tony went on:

“And if you only care about him, then let me tell you he wouldn’t be safe here, either, even if for some inexplicable reason I agreed to letting him in. It’s called the Avengers Tower, for god’s sake! SHIELD pretty much owns the top floors, including the one we’re on at this very moment. Do you think they would appreciate a criminal, threat to mankind spending his vacation here? And you know Natasha and Clint live here? Clint, who Loki brainwashed to hurt other people? Do you expect them to not tell Fury? Fury would skin the psycho and feed his brain to behavioral science unit agents. And do you think he wouldn’t care about my part in this madness? This isn’t safe for  _ anybody _ !”

Apparently Thor wasn’t going to give up so easily.

“Fury won’t find out if you don’t tell him. Widow and Hawkeye only use the top five floors, isn’t that correct? You could let Loki reside somewhere else, the tower is big enough. Nobody has to know. Loki wouldn’t be able to leave, the chain on his neck would stop him, Allfather made sure it would be safe for the people of Midgard, once a place is decided, he won’t be able to run away or he will suffer greatly. And surely Loki wouldn’t want to be seen with a slave’s collar on his throat.”

_ Slave’s collar. So that’s what it is. Magical slave collar. No wonder he’s not so fond of me staring at it.  _ He ignored the lump in his throat that appeared when he heard the word “slave”.  _ He deserves this, doesn’t he? He deserves worse. _

“What exactly was his status in Asgard? A prince, a prisoner, or a slave? These are three very different things, you know. Besides that, there’s no slavery here on Midgard. On Earth. At least not in any decent part of the world.”

Thor took a moment to gather the right words, visibly struggling. Meanwhile Loki was still on the couch, now not hiding his attention, seemingly amused by the situation.

“You realise, Tony, that our worlds are very different. Loki wasn’t stripped of his royal title, he would be long dead if it was so, but at the same time he was a prisoner and had none of the privileges he used to enjoy. And a prisoner in Asgard is very close to a slave, regarded as the very bottom of the social ladder. So he might have still been a prince, but to the people of Asgard, he was no better than a servant, even though they weren’t allowed to display their beliefs openly. He didn’t wear a collar, though, in Asgard. This would be a death sentence without an executioner. My Father has decided it is needed if Loki is to stay elsewhere, for protection of people around him.”

“So good of him to take our safety into consideration,” Tony muttered.

“I know this isn't an ideal solution but you must believe me, I am left with no other choice, otherwise I wouldn't turn to you for help. I’ve tried speaking to elves of Alfheim and to gods of Vanaheim, Loki opposed to being kept at  Svartalfheim amongst the dwarves. Tony, I am begging you. I can't watch my Loki die because he could not handle being mocked by his own people.”

He heard a quiet scoff and saw Loki get up from where he was sitting and walking over to them. He was smiling but the strength and confidence was gone from his eyes. Now all Tony could read from them was weariness.

“They are not  _ my _ people, Thor. If you do not believe my words, then believe their actions. And if Man of Iron does not want me here either, you cannot force him. My cell in the dungeons is awaiting me.”

For weeks after this moment Tony wondered where that came from but in this very second all he was thinking was  _ I'm deadly bored. And I’ve said I don't want to lose any more friends, right? _

“He can stay.”

Both Asgardians looked at him baffled. Surprisingly, it was Thor who was the first one to react. He made a big step and put his heavy arms around Tony, hugging him so strongly he squinted his eyes in pain.  _ Ooh, there go my ribs, well, it’s not like I  _ need _ them. _

  
  


“I knew I could rely on you, dearest friend. You are saving my brother's life and I owe you, Tony. If you are ever in trouble, come to me and I will do anything that is in my power.”

Tony opened his eyes and over Thor’s huge shoulder he saw Loki looking at him with curiosity, half of his mouth twisted in a smirk that didn’t seem entirely unkind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I might upload more often but with shorter chapters. I appreciate any thoughts you might have on that as a reader.


	3. Pizza acclimatization.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gifts we receive aren't always the gifts we wanted. Still, we have to deal with them someway.

Tony expected Thor to have at least enough decency to stay for a week or two to help Loki settle in, make sure he’s getting his favourite cookies, there are no peas under his pile of hundred mattresses and maybe that he’s not planning to murder the people that were good enough to let him under their roof.  _ That means me. _

But Blondie has explained Loki’s disappearance is to be presented as an escape and this excuse may not be credible if the second prince isn’t present at the time as well. And so he went back to his golden palace merely an hour after arrival. That left Tony alone with the God of Mischief and _ oh boy _ was he happy about that.

Avengers floors were definitely off limits for the god, if there was any chance of his presence going unnoticed he had to stay on the lower floors. 

_ My floors. My private floors. Makes it all the easier to kill me, right?  _

He got Loki to the elevator door, which he eyed with uncertainty. 

“It’s an elevator. It goes up and down between floors, so you don’t have to use the stairs and tire your royal thighs. And it’s quicker, too.”

“I am aware of its function. It is the reliability that I am concerned about.”

“Don’t worry, Rudolph. I designed it, my company built it and I checked it. Probably safer than the stairs because I had no supervision over construction of those.”

Tony gestured inviting the god to enter and Loki, with an obnoxious sigh, complied.

“Where can I take you, sir?” Jarvis spoke after the door closed behind them. 

_ Oh, right. _   
  
_ I don’t even know which floor I want to put him on. _

“Erm… kitchen, I guess? Main kitchen.”

“Yes, sir.”

_ I wish I could always sound as certain as Jarvis.  _

The door of the elevator opened on the 33rd floor and right in front of them was a spacey dining room, open to the kitchen, which was on the right. If you went further left from the dining room there was a short corridor and after a sharp turn it widened into a big, dark room with no windows in it. Inside there were two sofas, one behind the other, the front one a step lower. On the sides a couple of armchairs and two small tables, in front of all that, a big screen, covering almost the entire wall. The screening room. The small cinema. There was also the big one, full size, five stories lower but it was rarely used. Tony preferred the quiet intimacy of the screening room. 

_ And the kitchen is closer. Popcorn. _

  
  


Loki followed Tony into the kitchen and after Tony’s gesture, sat on one of the high bar stools that were standing at the counter dividing the kitchen from the dining room.

“What do you feel like, hmm, Reindeer Games? Cereal? Toast? Eggs? Pancakes? I’m afraid that’s the best we can do right now with my cooking skills. Or takeaway, if you’d rather wait a bit? Chinese? Pizza? Indian? What do princes even eat there, in thy shiny palace?”

Loki raised an eyebrow at him.

“It is an afternoon in Midgard right now, is it not? As for dinner, we mostly eat meat. Roasted, sometimes fried. Beef, venison or poultry. Asgardians aren’t very fond of vegetables, but take a special liking for boiled potatoes if they are cooked with a lot of herbs. Preceding the meat there is usually soup or fish, although fish does mostly appear on the royal table as it has to be imported and cooked at once. Then, for dessert, a plethora of pastries, cakes and fruit from all nine Realms.”

Tony yawned ostentatiously.

“Aaaalright. I'm going to show you what food is. Let's start with pizza.”

  
  
  
  


Loki wasn’t exactly hiding his disdain for midgardian food, but Tony attributed this to his general need to show contempt for “lower” races. He looked down at his pizza, then up at Tony and at the pizza again as if asking  _ Are you being quite serious, mortal? _ Then he asked for “suitable cutlery”, refused to use his hands after Tony’s suggestion to do so and accepted knife and fork after a quick yet unnecessarily loud rummage through the cupboards of the latter. 

With said “suitable cutlery” he then proceeded to disintegrate the poor slice of pizza into its primordial parts. After a minute or two there was a pepperoni heap, a cheese heap and a depressingly bare crust with some tomato sauce on it. Tony watched this happening, intrigued and legitimately mortified. Loki then cut off a tiny piece of the crust, put it in his mouth, chewed a little and swallowed with a visible grimace. Elegantly put the knife and fork down on the plate.

  
  


“I am not that hungry after all” he announced.

Tony fought off the urge to slap the god with the sorry piece of pizza crust.

“How the fuck can you expect it to be any good when you take all the best parts off and just eat the soggy bread?” he asked with obvious irritation in his voice.

“I did not expect it to be any good, Man of Iron.”

“Tony.”

“Anthony.” The god looked Tony straight into the eyes and his gaze was cold, distant and far more intense than would be deemed appropriate in regular human interaction. Threatening.

Tony contemplated offering Loki something else to eat, but decided against it.  _ He’s set on hating anything I might give him anyway, surely a god won’t starve to death until tomorrow. _

  
  


It was nearly 10 pm by then and Tony just now remembered Bruce was waiting for him on the gym floor.

  
  


“Fine, then. Let’s put you to bed, darling.”

Loki raised his brow but said nothing.

It again occured to Tony he didn’t really know where to place the unwanted gift. He had plenty of guest rooms in the tower, some on the lower floors for after party leftovers, as Pepper used to call people who were way too drunk to let them out of the tower, then some on the higher of his private floors, where guests he actually knew would be placed and where he would sleep himself. His (main) bedroom was on the 30th floor and there were two other bedrooms on that floor, although never really in use - he preferred putting his guests on the 29th and 28th, keeping some distance. He quickly realised putting the God of Mischief far down on the 10th floor wasn’t an option. He was a prisoner of war here and needed to be under constant observation.  _ Keep your friends close…  _

_ 29th then? _ It seemed like the most logical option. He didn’t really want the psycho right next to him as he’s deep in his sleep.  _ And Jarvis would keep an eye on him anyway, right? _

Tony got on his feet and gestured in the direction of the elevator. Loki followed him in without a word.

  
  


“30th, Jarvis.”

“Are you quite sure, sir?”

“Jarvis.”

“Yes, sir.”

  
  
  


Both of the guest bedrooms on the 30th floor were of the highest standard in the tower, right after Tony's personal bedroom.  _ Loki is truly getting a royal treatment. He definitely doesn't deserve it, though. Maybe I should make him sleep on the corridor floor? On a mat at my bedroom door?  _ The thought made him smirk, but he wasn't really taking it into consideration. 

_ Prisoner of war. He will be treated with respect and according to the Geneva Convention. Not that they concern him, I suppose. He's not human. _

_ Are his feelings and emotions same as ours? Considering what he's done it's hard to believe so. _

  
  


They got to the bedroom which was farther away from Tony's. He put his finger to the detector beside the door then pushed the door open. For a second he considered setting the door security settings to accept Loki's fingerprint, then decided against it.  _ Let's not go too far too soon. _

  
  


"You can't open the door yourself."

Loki didn't seem surprised.

"I understand your magic is restrained by the collar at your throat, Reindeer Games?"

Loki looked like he wanted to say something, but after a second he just nodded.

" Right. That's for the best. You weren’t this quiet last time you visited me here. There is a bathroom next to the room, if you need help with working out the shower just ask Jarvis. The voice. If you have any questions, ask Jarvis. If you need to eat some more soggy pizza crust, want to see me, or feel like strolling through the corridors gloomily, pondering your defeat - ask Jarvis."

Loki only nodded again and went into the room. Tony saw him slowly walking up to the window when a thought hit him. He stopped the door which was closing behind the Trickster.

“Loki?”

The god turned his head to look at Tony. 

“Yes?”

“Any attempt at opening or breaking the window will trigger the alarm. Just don’t try it.”

  
  


He let go of the door, watching it close until he heard the mechanism lock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all your comments are very much appreciated
> 
> We will give our New Yorkers a short break and Steve and Bucky will appear in the next chapter


	4. Blue, breakfast and Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky finally in the story!  
> Romance? Bromance? Unrequited love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's perspective first, although I'm planning to write from all four of our boys' perpectives eventually.  
> I hope to keep up a different style for each person.

**_Steve_ **

  
  


The flat they were staying in was tiny, dirty and old. There was black mold on the walls, sloppily covered with paint. Spiderwebs in every corner, so dusty even their makers moved out to find a friendlier place. Noise from the busy street, car horns of the impatient drivers throughout the day and shouts of intoxicated youth at night, was almost too much to stand at times. 

  
  


_ I haven’t been this happy in over 70 years. _

  
  


Steve was sitting on the dirty floor, his back against the door frame. The room was half-dark, it was morning already, but the windows were covered with strips of brown packing paper. He spent the last hour staring at the bed in the opposite end of the room, where a dark figure laid, sheets untidy and falling to the floor. They tried sleeping at the same time but it never really worked.  _ Once a soldier, always a soldier.  _ And it wasn’t just that.  _ Bucky…  _

...he felt shivers just from thinking the name...

  
  
  


Bucky wouldn’t sleep when Steve was asleep, subconsciously afraid that when he wakes up, he will be alone again, in a metal cell, closed off somewhere in Siberia and then he will feel the cold creep in and sting where the metal met the flesh on his left shoulder. And later he won’t even have the memory of Steve or anything else good in the world. All gone.

  
  


That’s what Bucky told him a few months ago, when they were crossing the Hungarian border and the cargo train they were in stopped for the night in the middle of a neverending grassfield. He was talking quietly, almost timidly and looking out into the midnight sky, never facing his friend. Steve got up from the floor, walked up to the couch door that they opened to let the air in and pushed down the ball in his throat. 

“I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you ever again and I won’t let anyone take you away from me. I’m not Captain America anymore and I don’t follow orders - not from Fury, not from the Avengers, not from the Government.”

He took a deep breath and continued, speaking slowly and praying that he sounds confident and decided

“But I will do whatever you need me to do, say whatever you need me to say and be wherever you need me to be. With you, until the end of the line.”

  
  


Bucky turned his head to look Steve into the eyes, and took a tiny step, almost closing the distance between them completely. He watched intently, searching for an answer to an unasked question. He didn’t seem to find it and slowly raised his hand, the one fueled with warm blood, to Steve’s cheek. 

The palm of Buck’s hand was both hard and soft at the same time. Calloused, but bending perfectly to every slightest curve and angle of his face. Neither cold nor warm, although a  _ normal  _ person’s skin always felt cold to touch to Steve. Bucky’s skin felt like an extension of his own and his breath felt like the lightest breeze on the Brooklyn dock in June.

  
  
  


With the softest, most comforting voice that could be imagined, Bucky repeated after him

  
  


“Until the end of the line, Stevie.”

  
  
  


Bucky let his hand fall down by his side and sat on the edge of the carriage, legs hanging outside. He tapped the floor beside him, inviting Steve to join him, and when he did, they looked at the dark sky together. It seemed a bit brighter than just minutes ago.

  
  
  
  
  


This and other memories he liked to revisit at those times, fighting the need to come up to Bucky and touch him, make sure he’s alright, safe and sleeping peacefully. But he knew Bucky would wake up,  _ he wakes up so easily, the slightest rustle has him on his feet, the plates of his metal arm moving and twisting,  _ and he needed the rest.

_ God knows he’s been through enough pain and struggle for ten lifetimes. _

  
  
  
  


Sometime later Steve heard a soft grunt and a yawn, he stood up, smile creeping onto his face. 

“Good morning, princess”

Bucky smiled before he even opened his eyes and when he did open them, he was still squinting.

  
  


“Steve…” he said very slowly and very quietly, as if talking to himself.

“Hmm?”

  
  


After a moment’s pause he got an answer, this time in Buck’s usual, cheeky tone

“...I hope you made breakfast this time and haven’t wasted the entire morning just staring at the ladies through the window”

  
  


Steve grabbed a pillow and hit Bucky with it. He heard a muffled chuckle from underneath the pillow.

  
  


“Shut up or I’m gonna sell you to Fury, you cocky bastard.”

  
  


Bucky freed himself and sat on the bed   
  


“And who’s gonna fight your battles for you then,  _ princess?” _

  
  


The other man was already heading into the kitchen, his pace easy and leisurely

  
  


“Then I’m gonna have to find another artless halfwit. What’s easier, though, you know, I’m Captain America.”

  
  


Voice got to him when he was setting up the kettle “WAS Captain America!”

Steve sighed ostentatiously “Go find yourself some other flat, will you?”

  
  


“I quite like this one.” he heard from just behind him and when he looked back, he saw Bucky sitting on an ugly red chair by the small, rickety kitchen table. He was leaning back, together with the chair which was balancing on its rear legs. His long, black hair messy, a couple of strands falling onto his forehead, getting into his eyes when he moved too quickly. He was still smiling, his fingers tapping the table to the melody he started humming. 

_ Definitely from the forties but can’t remember the name of the song. _

His eyes were focused on Steve.

  
  


_ Bright, so cold and icy, with a hint of grey or maybe even silver. Dangerous. _

  
  
  


“So, where’s the breakfast, punk? I think I’ve been awake for whole ten minutes already and haven’t eaten a thing. A big man like me needs a lot of calories, you know?”

  
  


Steve rolled his eyes at him and started cracking the eggs.

  
  
  
  


_ But blue, just like mine. _


	5. Sketching and spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all love Bucky's drama hair, but let's all appreciate his '40s look, shall we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has to be my favourite so far and I hope even those of you, who are here for Tony and Loki are going to enjoy reading it
> 
> Steve still doesn't know that, but I think it's alright for you to know now. If you're interested (I know you are!) [this is the song Bucky was humming in the previous chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=am10msR8bEw)
> 
> I also recommend it as background music for second half of this one!

“We really ought to move, Buck” said Steve without interrupting his drawing, head bent down, eyebrows furrowed, eyes looking for details to perfect. “How long has it been? Over a month?”

“Six weeks and two days. I know, Steve, I know. Too long. It’s just... I like it here, don’t you? 

Steve nodded his head and Bucky continued “We don’t seem to really get noticed. It’s maybe a bit too warm for my liking, but it’s busy enough so that people don’t pay attention to us. Not a lot of police around, but it’s not dangerous either. Despite all the noise it’s peaceful here. We can just… be.”

  
  


“Damn it Buck. I love it here, I do. I just don’t want to risk- ” _losing you again?_ “ -getting caught.”

  
  


“Just a couple more days, alright? So we can think of something, a plan.” The brunet looked around, taking in the surroundings. It was ugly and dirty, but started to feel like it’s theirs.

Steve sighed. “Fine, a couple more days of bliss.”

Bucky smiled at him with his wonderful sunny grin. “So, where shall we go next, Captain? Staying in the Balkans? Or even Europe? What are you thinking?”

  
  


“You said it’s a little too hot here for the Winter Soldier? How do you feel about Canada?”

Bucky winced a bit as Steve said _the_ _Winter Soldier_ , but quickly recollected himself. The other man noticed the reaction and was about to apologize, when Bucky stopped him “No, it’s ok, Stevie. That’s part of who I am.”

  
  


“You’re so much more, Buck.”

  
  


“But I also am the Winter Soldier. And if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here now at all. That’s one way to look at it.” Bucky paused to think and then added “Canada sounds good. Somewhere real north, the moose won’t notify SHIELD, will they? Well, how is that drawing looking? Am I as pretty as in real life?” Bucky looked inquisitively, trying to see into Steve’s sketchbook without moving too much.

Steve chuckled.

_No, not in the slightest. How does one catch the coldness of his eyes with charcoal? Or the almost constant tenseness of the muscles. The cautious breathing, as if one breath too loud could betray his hideaway.”_

  
  


“I’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to make it less attractive and more true, but haven’t quite gotten there.”

  
  


Bucky got up from his chair despite Steve’s protests and approached the blond.

  
  


“Let me see it, punk.” he said while snatching the sketchbook out of Steve’s hands.

The drawing showed Bucky sitting on the chair next to the window, as if gazing through it despite it being covered with brown paper. His left, metal arm closer to the viewer, per Steve’s request. His left hand was hanging down, right resting on his knees. One leg a bit more forward than the other, _ready to run._ His hair was behind his ear, but some of the shorter strands got onto his forehead anyway.

  
  


“I need a haircut.” Bucky stated simply. “You still remember how to cut hair?”

“Do I remember? You got all the ladies just because of how goddamn good of a barber I was. You can’t forget that level of skill.”

“I want to deny that, but not sure I can.” Bucky smiled “You think you can get me to the same level of glam, buddy?”

  
  
  
  


One hour and one t-shirt entirely covered with hair later, Bucky looked just like from a Second World War recruitment film, hair swept back and clean-shaven face. Steve couldn’t stop staring at him. 

  
  


It was like being transported back in time, to 1940, when they were strolling Manhattan streets together on Sunday afternoons, Buck chatting up the girls, him standing awkwardly by his side, feeling small and meaningless. Bucky looked at him every few seconds, making sure he wasn’t too uncomfortable, trying to get him to talk, later asking if he liked any of the girls they just met.

But the girls never liked him, they liked his taller, handsome friend. With his arrogant look and confident walk. Bucky was polite, funny, always knew what to say. Great dancer and spectacular at silently reciting slightly inappropriate poems right into girls’ ears. 

  
  


Steve only became popular with women after his transformation and even Peggy, _sweet Peggy_ … From the very start, before he was Captain America, she knew they were looking for a man to _change_. Looking at Steve, she saw the things he could be, not the things he was.

  
  


_Bucky…_ Bucky was always there, for him. Captain America or lil’ Stevie.

  
  


When Bucky was getting better after almost dying at that nazi experiment table he asked Steve “Can you run now, without spitting out your lungs? And sleep in the cold without getting all feverish?” when he confirmed Bucky smiled, eyes unfocused, pupils dilated so that his eyes were almost black. They were back at the station, but Bucky fell into that delirium state from time to time for the next two weeks. “I’m so glad you’re healthy and strong now, Stevie, so glad. I’m just mad you’re here now, buddy. It’s a rough place. It’s no place for _my Stevie_ … your mom would say so if she could see you...” Bucky then chuckled and even giggled for a bit, his fever getting higher as the night creeped in. 

  
  


Steve spent the first nights at his bedside, sitting on the cold ground, napping with his head resting on the side of the narrow bed, holding Bucky’s hot hand in his own. Sometimes Bucky protested, joking about how it was unseemly that _the Great Captain America acted like his maid and nurse_ . Then his temperature got up to 106 degrees* at times and stayed high like that for hours, not reacting to antipyretics. _They should’ve realised back then something was off about him._ He would laugh and talk nonsense about the old times, how they met at school when Bucky saved him from a bully. Spending time together, sharing school lunches, watching Steve draw. Then he would get anxious and shivery, squirm, say broken words in German, scream. Steve didn’t know what to do other than try to talk to him as calmly as he could and pressing Bucky’s hand to his heart.

  
  
  
  


_Bucky, Buck… You only enlisted for me._

  
  
  
  
  


Steve took a step back to assess his work “You look real handsome, Buck. Almost as good as me.”

  
  


“Do I, now? Would you take me out to the movies, soldier? If I was a dame?” Bucky was smiling but his eyes were focused. 

_He’s always alert._

  
  


“I’d even take you to the dance, doll” Steve laughed, then offered his left hand to Bucky.

The other man placed his right hand in Steve’s, then slowly placed the other one on his shoulder. Steve felt the weight of the metal despite Bucky obviously keeping most of it up. He hesitated, then let out a forced laugh and put his right hand on Bucky’s back at the waist level.

  
  


When he took the first step forward Bucky exhaled loudly and only a split second later stepped back with his left foot. Next, the other foot forwards and to the side. The brunet was again late with his matching step back. Then the third step, first foot joining the other. Steve started his step back, but as they weren't putting the correct pressure on their arms and hands, Bucky didn't realise in time it was his turn to step forward and they separated. He then rushed to make it up, but his step was too big and he was standing chest to chest with Steve, who just realised they were both breathing heavily.

  
  


"What happened to the best dancer in Brooklyn? Failing at waltz all of a sudden?" He asked, trying to mask his uneasiness. _This was weird and awfully awkward. Why did he even propose the dancing? He thought Bucky would laugh at him and refuse._

  
  


"You see, punk, I wasn't usually the girl" Bucky retorted "And I guess I'm a bit out of practice."

Bucky looked surprised when Steve grabbed his right hand and placed it on his own back, between shoulder blade and waist. Steve's left hand was soon resting on Bucky's shoulder and his right one in Bucky's metal one.

  
  
  


"Impress me, soldier" he tried to say it jokingly, but it turned out nervous instead.

  
  


_God-fucking-damnit. Why is he so awkward? Well, maybe because he's dancing with his best mate like they're a couple._

  
  
  
  


Bucky seemed to recollect himself and after a second he strengthened his grip on Steve's back, putting firm pressure on it. He smiled, with his teeth, _like he would when he was about to charm two pretty girls into going out with them._

  
  


He initiated the step and Steve had no choice but to follow, taking a step back. _Back and to the side, join._ The taller man started humming a waltz. _Why don't I remember any names of the songs?_ After a couple of simple steps Bucky led him into turns and Steve became thankful the flat was so empty, otherwise they would have surely bumped into something already. _There is no denying that Bucky is an excellent dancer, even after all those years._ He led Steve effortlessly, they were circling and spinning around the room and it almost felt like flying.

  
  


Steve let out a chuckle, this time a genuine one.

  
  


Bucky smiled at him again, then with a one-sided smirk on his face leaned in and whispered into Steve's ear.

  
  


"Are you impressed, sweetheart?"

  
  
  


They spinned around the room for maybe half a minute more, then the brunet lightly pushed his partner back and down and Steve thought he would fall down, but he sat on the red chair instead. 

  
  
  


"May I offer you a drink?" 

  
  
  


Steve nodded, completely out of breath, and watched Bucky disappear into the kitchen, humming the melody from the morning again.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *41,1 degrees Celsius for all non-Americans
> 
> Let me know your thoughts about this one! 
> 
> Next chapter we're going back to New York boys...


End file.
